


Jagged Mosaic

by thecryoftheseagulls



Series: Caylina Shepard [4]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:44:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2112129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecryoftheseagulls/pseuds/thecryoftheseagulls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Caylina Shepard is stuck under house arrest during the period of time between ME2 and ME3, she makes some bad choices concerning James Vega. Consequences of said angry sexy-times follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jagged Mosaic

Caylina Shepard doesn’t expect much more than she gets after she turns herself and the Normandy SR-2 over to the Alliance. It was always inevitable that she’d come back in – well, assuming she survived a suicide mission to save the galaxy. Again. Shepard is nothing if not a good soldier, and she fucking hates Cerberus, her attempts to use them to save lives notwithstanding, because the only thing she hates more than those goddamned terrorists is people fucking with colonists.

So. Here she is, on Earth, and the Alliance has her ship. Or at least the ship that became hers, where before it was just a clever facsimile with too many bugs and an obscene amount of posh features. She submits to the endless battery of physical tests gladly, because she wants to know as much as anyone what Cerberus has done to her. Shepard has some idea, of course, from what Chakwas has been able to tell her and what Miranda has let slip. The niggling fear that she’ll wake up some day surrounded by bodies and not recognize herself is what keeps her up at night. She wants to know about every piece of hardware they put in her.

She also expects the long interviews, the hours spent recounting every little action, every little detail about her time under Cerberus. She gives details of Cerberus up easily, tells them of every little hidden base, every dirty secret she can think of. She tells them about Subject Zero, about the base they blew sky-high, about the Illusive Man’s claims he knew nothing of what went on there. It’s only on the subject of her crew that Shepard becomes tight-lipped. She names Garrus, Tali, Miranda. She says nothing about Oriana. She pleads violently in defense of Donnelly and Daniels, while being vague on the subject of Edi. About the crew, Shepard does not crack, though they cross-examine her again and again.

It’s the house arrest Shepard does not expect. The guards, the precautions, sure. But they stick her in one of those military family houses on an Alliance base and stick a tracker under her skin and just…leave here there, when they’re not running tests or asking questions. In what amounts to a goddamned _suburb_. 

Shepard hates it, hates the faux-domesticity of it, hates the extra bedroom that she doesn’t need because no one ever comes to see her, hates the bare walls which she refuses to decorate, hates that not even her fucking armor has been returned to her. She hates the too-large double bed which she was hoping to escape when she left the Normandy’s captain’s cabin. She hates the noise – too loud (not like the stillness of her family’s fields on Mindoir) and yet not loud enough (like the Citadel or Illium or any other city, to drown out the noise in her head). She hates how lonely Luna looks in the night sky, hates that it reminds her of those myths where the moon is a lover perpetually alone, hates that it makes her think wistfully of Hera and Hephaestus always together in Mindoir’s sky. She hates that she wakes up heart pounding, drenched in sweat, with the image of that freaky human Reaper reaching up undead from the bowels of the Collector’s ship; hates that Thane reaches out to her in her dreams and she can see the ‘Why?’ in his eyes, but it dies on his lips every time as blood sprouts from his forehead. She hates the Alliance-assigned therapists who ask her about her feelings and us that too-fucking-familiar phrase ‘survivor’s guilt’ at least once each session. She hates the futility she feels, knowing the Reapers are still coming and no one is doing shit to stop them. And most of all, she hates the fucking crickets, how they sit under her window every evening when she’s alone and make that god-awful noise that people call chirping, because it makes her want to break things and reminds her that even on the fabled human home world she is an outsider. 

Kaidan doesn’t come to see her, doesn’t call, doesn’t send messages, and this is what nearly breaks her, though she doesn’t dare think about it enough to even put it on the list of things she hates. What Shepard doesn’t let herself dwell on are the words “maybe after all this is over,” but the truth is the off-chance of a maybe something later is what has kept Shepard alive these past months. Sure, there was the responsibility to the colonists and the knowledge that if she didn’t do something to stop the Reapers, no one would. But Commander Caylina Shepard, Savior of the Citadel, was only human. And when you’re alone, surrounded by only your worst enemy, woken back up from the dead to find that nothing you’d accomplished in life had meant shit, well. The fate of the galaxy resting on your shoulders can go fuck itself. Shepard told herself Kaidan’s rejection at Horizon was justified, told herself one more mission – finish this, survive, it’s what you’re good at – and then, maybe there was hope.

Well, she’d survived – again – this time losing only one, and they locked her in this shitty house, and he didn’t come. The usual answer of getting piss drunk wasn’t a solution, either, because of the house arrest and the watching and the tests. So Shepard defaults to sixteen years old and alone on a strange ship.

“Hey, Vega,” she says one day to the brawny Marine the Alliance has attached on baby-sitter duty.

“Yeah, Lola?” James Vega tips back in a kitchen chair to look at her, one booted foot up on the table. 

“How’d you feel about training with me, since you’re here every day anyways? I’m going soft holed up in these barracks while the brass decide what to do with me.”

And that’s how their daily sparring sessions start. Vega is all muscle, even more dedicated to his work-out regime than most Marines, and Shepard pushes her new body to the max to stay ahead of him. When she isn’t wanted for some meeting, she spends nearly every waking moment working out or watching the news for signs of Reaper activity (often both). It’s an old tactic, one she’d employed after Mindoir – if her body was too exhausted to function, there was no energy left for thinking. It is how Shepard has always coped with being utterly alone.

When Anderson steps down from the Council, he comes to visit occasionally, but mostly it’s just Vega. One night, Vega comes by off-duty, brings a couple of six-packs, gets her drunk. She thinks how different he is from Kaidan – all bulk and tight muscle and tattoos where Kaidan was lean, not an ounce of body fat wasted. James is cocky where Kaidan was quiet assurance; he is big grins and flirtatious winks where Kaidan was slow smiles and lines like, “If I’m out of line, let me know.”

Shepard fucks Vega senseless into her too-large bed that night while they’re both drunk, bites down on her fist to keep from screaming Kaidan’s name when she comes. He’s the first person she’s slept with since before Alchera, since the two days of snatched shore leave with Kaidan before she’d died and woke to find they’d cut her open and put her back together like Humpty-Dumpty or Frankenstein’s monster, a jagged mosaic of broken glass that looked good, but cut anyone who came too close.

~-~-~-~

The next morning, Shepard wakes up and for once she’s blessedly not alone. Maybe she’s distracted by the pounding of the hangover that starts loud in her head the moment she regains consciousness, but for about thirty seconds, she feels…safe. 

Then she realizes that the arm thrown carelessly over her side is big, much too big, and Shepard looks over to find Vega snoring in her bed.

“Oh shit,” she says. “Shit shit shit…” She carefully moves his arm off her without waking him, grabs a robe, and flees to the bathroom. 

Her eyes are bloodshot and her hair, normally so tidy and straight, is a solid mass of tangles. She looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks, which, honestly, isn’t too far off. Shepard grips the edge of the sink and groans. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Shepard?” she mutters, taking up her hairbrush with a vengeance. 

She goes into the kitchen and makes coffee as black as her mood when she looks at least a touch more presentable. By the time Vega stumbles out, she’s already on her second cup.

“Morning, Lola,” he says with a grin that turns quickly into a grimace as the bright morning light hits his eyes. Shepard slides him a cup of coffee across the counter without comment. “Thanks,” he says, dropping onto the bar stool next to her and cupping the mug between his large hands. He makes a face at the lack of sweetening, but drinks it anyways. 

Shepard watches him from over her own mug, lips set in a thin line. This is…something of a first for her. It’s not the sex, exactly, that she regrets. It’s been a long time – she stopped having one night stands when she finally figured out that she was falling for Kaidan, back on the SR-1, but it’s not as though they were ever really a couple. It’s mainly that Shepard doesn’t sleep with people she might have to see again, not ever. Kaidan was the only person to ever stay in her bed an entire night So sleeping with her…watchdog, probation officer, babysitter, whatever Vega is…is problematic. Not that she had a lot of options these days. 

_It was a one-time thing_ , she tells herself angrily. _It won’t happen again._

James gets halfway to the bottom of his coffee before he says, “Seems like things got a bit wild last night.” He grins again, pure reckless Vega and raises both his eyebrows at Shepard. She crosses her arms over her chest and feels…oddly naked (which she is, under the robe, but that’s not the point). This is the first time she can remember ever having a morning after talk with anyone, really. She ‘s used to leaving in the middle of the night and saying “Don’t call me” in response to the hurt puppy looks of broken hearts that follow her out the door. This, a naked Marine in her kitchen the next morning, is something new, and Shepard decidedly does not like the way it upsets her usual power dynamic. 

“I’d call that an understatement,” she says. 

“Damn, Lola, I knew you were good, but that was _amazing_ ,” Vega chuckles. 

“Glad I can impress,” she says dryly, drinking down the rest of her coffee. He starts to say something else, but Shepard pins her gaze on the hand he’s rested casually on the counter between them, the hand that’s now reaching for her hand. She feels her control of the situation slipping, panics, and says quickly, “I’m no stranger to broken regs, Vega, but for your sake, let’s just keep this between us, shall we?”

The hand stops moving, comes back to rub at the back of Vega’s ridiculously large neck. 

“Sure thing, Lola,” he says. He thinks she’s talking about the whole defecting to work under Cerberus thing, but Shepard thinks of a purer self begging, ‘Bunk with me tonight, Kaidan,’ and swallows hard. 

“Good, glad we’ve settled that,” Shepard says. She gets up, puts her coffee mug in the sink, “I’m going to take a shower. Let yourself out when you’re ready.”

~-~-~-~

Shepard has gone into a downward spiral by the next time Vega stops by. The newsvids are blaring footage of a fresh set of Batarian attacks on all channels, and Shepard is taking out her frustration on the punching bag she has set up in the living room when he knocks on the front door and comes in. She doesn’t greet him, doesn’t say anything at all, just hits the bag again and again and again.

Vega leans up against the wall, watches her for a few minutes and then moves to shut off the screens and hold the bag still. When Shepard can’t breathe anymore, she stops, leans her forehead against the bag, gasps for air. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Vega asks. Shepard shakes her head against the bag and he reaches out to wrap his fingers around her wrist. “Lola…” he says, and there’s pity and concern in his voice and Shepard freaks. She pins his arm behind his back, sweeps his feet out from under him and then she’s on top of him on the ground, her arm across his throat.

“Don’t touch me,” Shepard growls. “Don’t you fucking dare. Not unless I say.”

Vega gets the hint. For a while, things are awkward between them as James keeps a more than professional distance. Eventually the tension of being stuck together wears the formality between them away, and after that to the casual observer they’re just two regular soldiers. Except James looks at Shepard like she’s the sun when she isn’t watching him, and Shepard watches Vega work out with perhaps a too-appreciative eye, and something, deeper still, like regret. 

~-~-~-~

Shepard has Vega on the ground, her knee in the center of his back and her pistol to his head. 

“Gonna have to do better than that, Lieutenant,” she says, smirking, and then lets him up. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grouses, grabbing the hand she offers. “Your win again. Ma’am.”

Across the shuttle bay, Garrus holds out a hand to Traynor, who grudgingly hands over a few credits. “Shouldn’t have bet against Shepard, Traynor. Told you she’d win every time.”

“I didn’t bet _against_ her,” Traynor protests. “I just figured Lieutenant Vega would win at least a couple rounds. He’s…erm.” The specialist stops speaking abruptly and even Shepard can see her blush.

Shepard arches a brow at James, says, “Hear that, Vega, you’re…erm.” She smirks. “Think that’s a compliment, don’t you?”

“You know I like a well-spoken woman, Lola,” he grins back. He flicks his eyebrows up in a ‘watch this’ sort of look and saunters over to where Garrus and Traynor stand with a few other members of the crew. Shepard takes a moment to appreciate the view, smacks his ass as he goes, and James gives her a wink over his shoulder. She chuckles.

“You two are…friendly,” Kaidan’s voice says in her ear. Shepard turns to find him standing at her elbow, one hand on his hip, forehead creased.

“Why, you jealous, Major?” Shepard grins, taking the towel he offers her to dry the sweat from her forehead. 

“Maybe a little,” Kaidan says, honestly, and Shepard’s grin fades, her good mood ruined by the chill that shivers up her spine. _Shit._

“We, uh. We spent a lot of time together back on Earth. Alliance assigned him to…check in on me while I was on house arrest, see if I needed anything, make reports on my mental health, that kind of thing.” Shepard tries to look casual. 

“So you’re close,” Kaidan says. Shepard shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess so. Not like I got many other visitors back then.” She starts away from Kaidan, towards the sweater she’d shrugged off at the start of her spar with Vega. 

Kaidan touches her arm, stopping her. 

“Have I told you I’m sorry about that yet?” he asks in an undertone. “I should have come to see you. I let my fear that it wasn’t really you keep me from trying to finding out the truth. I guess I…couldn’t handle the thought of losing you again, if it was all a lie.”

Shepard swallows, all thoughts of James vanished. “Kaidan…you don’t. I…” She puts her hand over his on her arm, says thickly, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Cayli,” he whispers, and it jolts something inside her, hearing her nickname again from his lips after so long. She shoots a glance at the audience behind them before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek – quick, secret, but there are so many months of longing behind that one touch. It’s all either of them can do to step away before someone sees. 

~-~-~-~

“So, you and Shepard, huh,” James says a few weeks later, over poker.

“Me and Shepard,” Kaidan agrees.

“How long you two been an item?”

Kaidan shrugs. “This time? Not long. Before she died we were – I guess you could say we were together.” 

“She never said anything.” James looks down at his hand.

“She’s not the type.”

The both of them are silent for a while.

“Though there was that one time…Shit. That’s what she was talking about.” James rocks back in his chair, lips pursed. “Well, that explains a lot.” He snorts.

Kaidan eyes him from across the table. 

“What the hell are you talking about, Vega?”

“She made this comment one time, back on Earth. About broken regs. She must’ve been talking about you.”

“You inferred that we were together, because she said something about breaking regs? Seems like you’re reaching. Shepard has broken a lot of regs in her time.” Kaidan says.

James shifts in his seat.

“There was…other context.”

“What kind of…” Kaidan looks up, takes note of James’s expression, frowns. James makes a face, sheepish and guilty. “You slept together,” Kaidan says flatly. James rolls his shoulders in a ‘hey man, I didn’t know’ sort of shrug. Kaidan puts his cards down, very slowly, says harshly, “ _Jesus_.”

James flinches. “It was just the one time! We were both drunk.” He says quickly.

“Well,” Kaidan says with a face like stone. “That explains a lot.” He gets up and leaves the room without another word and James is left alone in the lounge.

“Shiiit,” he groans into the silence.

~-~-~-~

Kaidan is leaning against the desk in the captain’s cabin, arms folded across his chest, posture completely closed off, when Shepard comes out of the bathroom. She pauses in the act of toweling dry her hair.

“…Kaidan?” Shepard frowns. “Babe, what’s wrong? You look like someone died.” She reaches out to put her hand on his arm, but Kaidan shrugs her off.

“I was talking to James,” he begins without preamble. “Were you going to tell me you slept with him, or was that always off the table?” His jaw clenches.

“Shit, Kaidan.”

“It should have been obvious, shouldn’t it? The way he looks at you, that little nickname he has for you, the way I always seem to find you two sparring whenever you’ve got a free moment.” Kaidan is livid, the veins in his neck standing out so much that Shepard can actually see his pulse. 

“Oh well, excuse me for needing an outlet for the fact that the fate of the whole galaxy depends on me,” Shepard growls, putting her hands on her hips. “Not everything’s about you, Kaidan. Contrary to popular belief, I’ve been hitting targets like Vega as stress-relief a lot longer than I’ve known you.”

“That’s not what this is about. Fuck, Shepard, you _lied_ to me.”

“I did not lie! I told you what we were. The fact that I slept with him – _once_ – doesn’t change anything. I was alone, Kaidan! Drunk, pissed-off and locked in a house like some – some misbehaving pet that you put somewhere out of sight when you don’t want to think about them anymore. They left me there for _months_ , and I saw _no one_ except Vega and Anderson.” She’s shaking with rage, grinds out, “I didn’t ask for any of this, Kaidan, didn’t ask to be needed so badly the galaxy couldn’t function without me. I didn’t ask to get remade and I sure as hell didn’t ask to wake up and find the only people around me were Cerberus bastards who only wanted to use me, while everyone I cared about looked at me with disgust, called me a robot or a clone or a nightmare. I know I’m messed up, Kaidan, you don’t have to fucking remind me. So I made a mistake! One mistake. Fuck, is that so hard to understand?” She chokes back the moisture in her eyes. wrings the towel between her hands so hard she’s in danger of ripping it in half, drops her eyes to the floor while she composes herself. Kaidan doesn’t say anything for a long time, so finally Shepard just says quietly, “He’s the only one I’ve been with since before Alchera. Just him. Just once.”

Kaidan swipes the back of his hand across his mouth, the anger already bleeding from his expression. 

“I’m sorry, okay? But you. weren’t. there. I waited for you, Kaidan. You didn’t come.” Shepard inhales sharply, hating the way her breath hitches in her throat, hating the way it makes her sound weak and needy and on the verge of tears.

“Shit, Cayli.” Kaidan reaches out for her, wraps his hands around her biceps, and she lets him, craving his touch even as part of her wants nothing more than to sock him in the jaw. When she doesn’t resist, Kaidan pulls her in close and folds his arms around her, brushes his palm across the back of her head. Shepard fists her hands in his shirt and tries to breathe regularly, steady the dry sobs that are ripped from her throat against her will. “That was out of line,” he says, his tone apologetic. “It’s just – the thought of you, with him…god, it just makes me so…I’m sorry. I can’t handle it. Took all my strength not to beat the shit out of him then and there. So I’m jealous and you’re right, I don’t have any right to be. But I am.”

Shepard hiccoughs, leans her forehead against his shoulder. 

“How the hell did you think I felt when you sent me that email after Horizon?”

“What?” Kaidan says, sounding genuinely confused. She feels his chest rumble, like he’s almost chuckling. 

“’Going out for drinks with a doctor on the Citadel,’” Shepard recites, because she knows the message by heart. “What were you thinking, telling me that? God, I wanted to break things. I did break things. Put my first right through the fish tank. You said it wasn’t serious, but all I could think of was you with like, Dr. Michel, or someone, feeding her tidbits at dinner and maybe inviting her to your place after. Jesus. If I had met this woman at the time I would’ve bloodied her. ‘Nothing serious’ aside.” Shepard tips her head back to look at Kaidan. “It had only been weeks for me, then. Since Alchera. Weeks.” 

Kaidan cups her cheek in his hand. “So we’re both possessive, selfish bastards. At least we’ve cleared that up.” Shepard snorts, leans her forehead against his. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I love you so damn much, it makes me crazy sometimes.”

“I know the feeling. I’m sorry too. I should have told you.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re right, I wasn’t there. It’s not my place to judge.”

“You’re here now,” she says. “That’s what’s important. That’s enough.”

“And I’m not going anywhere,” Kaidan promises. He kisses her and she tastes the apology on his lips, and it’s a vow for them both, to make up for all the time they’ve lost.


End file.
